The Bounty Hunters
by Tarquin the Proud
Summary: The War against the Dark Lord is not going well. It is in these trying times that the Ministry of Magic must make a desperate decision: to forgo honor in exchange for victory. They decide to enlist the aid of the notorious bounty hunter Dung Fletcher.
1. The Rise of the Mercenaries

**Disclaimer: While the plot is my own, the characters are the property of the brilliant J.K. Rowling. Se gap lai nhe.**

**The Bounty Hunters**

**Chapter I:**

**The Rise of the Mercenaries**

Throughout history, men have sought to make money via different enterprises and shrewd business deals. As it is, capitalism is the oldest economic system this Earth has ever seen. However, sometimes men come forth to fight, hunt, and destroy their fellows in exchange for a taste of glory and adventure, and of course, for monetary gain. These men are bounty hunters; mercenaries; scum. These are their stories.

In the olden days when war was prominent and money plentiful, bounty hunters were a dime a dozen. However, the world—both magic and non-magic—had banned the use of mercenaries for all reasons. They sighted such trivial matters as the Geneva Convention and the evils of vigilantism. Nonetheless, when the going went rough, bounty hunters returned. It was during the dreadful 1st War against the hereditary Earl of Voldemortshire, Thomas Marvolo Riddle II and his Death Eater Vassals that traditional lawmen failed to do their task. Despite all of the methods of acquisition and entrapment that the Ministry of Magic tried, from allowing Aurors the right to kill rather than capture and offering rewards and incentives to Death Eaters to desert their Lord, and even offering full pardons to Death Eaters who would betray the Dark Lord's whereabouts to the Ministry, the Ministry continued to fail miserably. It was at this time when all was dark that an obscure Ministry Clerk named Amos Diggory suggested that Bounty Hunters be commissioned to hunt the Dark Lord and his followers.

It was with this in mind that Amos Diggory contacted a variety of Lowlives. Most prominently, he contacted a smuggler and Bounty Hunter named Mundungus Fletcher. Fletcher had, after all, been responsible for orchestrating the fall of Grindlewald in the German Alps. Grindlewald had hidden there after a bloody reign of terror across Europe that lasted no less than 25 years and cost no less than 500,000 lives. The majority of these had been magically disemboweled, or had been implanted by giant cockroaches, which tore up the body in an attempt to emerge into the world. Mundungus Fletcher and his apprentice, Albus Dumbledore had traced Grindlewald to the German Alps and Dumbledore had killed the Dark Wizard. This led to a considerable rise in importance for Dumbledore, whilst his mentor shrunk into the background.

Still, it was for Fletcher that Amos looked. He found the disheveled old man in a dusty corner of the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade.

"Oi, Mr. Fletcher!"

"Ar, 'oo are you?"

"Amos Diggory I am, I am."

"What choo want, Mr. Diggory?"

"Right, I'll cut to the heart of the matter, Mr. Fletcher…"

"— Call me Dung. Everyone else does."

"Alright, Dung," winced Mr. Diggory, "I just wanted to know if we might be able to enlist your, er, singular talents for a little task of ours."

"Aye, and what's that?"

"At current, there is a 50,000 galleon price on the head of Lord Voldemort, and a 10,000 galleon price on the heads of his faithful Death Eaters."

"Ah, well—I'm really getting too old for this, sonny. I've been around for a long, long, long, long, long, long…"

"Fine, fine, I get the drift. You've been around for a while." Mundungus was not amused. Picking up his pipe, he inhaled and blew a cloud of smelly purple smoke at Amos' face. Amos sputtered and choked before he regained his composure and said, "Would you like an apprentice? You know, someone that could assist you along your way?"

"Blimey, I may be old and dodgy, but I still know what the term "apprentice" means. I'm not stupid. Good idea, though. You've a head on your shoulder, sonny. That much, I'll give you."

"Thanks. Any ideas?"

"No. I'll look around and fine some young buck who'll do."

Amos turned around to leave the strange, smelly bar when he was struck by an odd thought.

"Dung, what will you be looking for exactly?"

"Some disgruntled lad with high ambitions that have just been dashed, or with a large desire for goods and a small purse. Or perhaps, some combination of the two."

"Ah, right-o. Let me know when you have your posse ready. Let old Dumbledore know too. He's a good man."

Dung snorted. "I'll roast in Hell before I let that two faced pork chop know aught. After all my training, he managed to nail Grindlewald and what does he do? He runs off and rewrites history. He makes himself a valiant warrior who slew Grindlewald in some great duel, when in actuality, he shot him in the back with a killin' curse. True, there's naught wrong in that, but he's made himself somemat he ain't. Now scram b'fore I have your head for that insolence."

Amos fled back towards the Ministry and safety whilst Mundungus drained his final mug of butterbeer. In a fit of anger, he threw his mug at the bar where it hit the Barman in the nose. The Barman's nose broke sending a mix of blood, phlegm, and bone across the supply of drinks.

"What are you playing at, fool. First, you insult my brother Albus Dumbledore and slander his good name and secondly you busted m'nose. That's it. You're never coming back in this bar if you want to live so get your filthy, thieving hide out my door."

With that, Aberforth Dumbledore sent hexes at the seat of Mundungus Fletcher, forcing him to flee for his life.

"Dang," thought Dung. "I chose a heck of a day to quit drinking."


	2. Frank's Tale

**The Bounty Hunters**

**Chapter II**

**Frank's Tale**

Today had been a truly dreadful day, thought a despondent Frank Longbottom gloomily. Only three years ago, all had looked so bright. It was at this time that Frank had achieved an outstanding on all of his many NEWTs. This had ensured him the path to becoming an auror. For the past three years, Frank had worked non-stop to achieve this goal. However, in one instant all was ruined.

What was it that destroyed Frank's passion to become an auror? His other obsession, the lovely Alice Prewitt. Oddly enough, it was because of Alice that he was in his current predicament. Right before he took his final Auror examination, he went to visit the lovely Miss Prewitt. They chatted about the future and about Frank's chances. It was at this time that Frank became emboldened and gave Alice a chaste kiss on the cheek. Regrettably, he was seen doing this by Alice's older brothers, Gideon and Fabian, who shot jinxes at him. Whilst his auror training had made young Frank quick, he was not quick enough. Fabian hit him with a confundus charm, which did not wear off until after his dreadful auror exam.

And so it was that a depressed Frank arrived at the Three Broomsticks to drink rum, heavily. At any rate, Frank thought, the day could not be any worse. He was wrong. The door to the pub opened and in walked a vengeful Alice Prewitt, still seething about the infamous kiss.

"Oh Frank, Frank dear."

"Aye," said Frank groggily. "Who is it?"

"Why it's Alice Prewitt. I have an important issue to discuss with you, Frank."

"What about? Sorry about all the mayhem my little peck on the cheek caused. Blimey am I sorry."

"Why?"

"B'cause I just failed my auror examination miserably, and have no future anymore. None whatsoever, 'cept you."

"Well, you've hit the nail right on the head, Frank. You're just wrong on one point."

"What's that, my dear?"

"Well, you don't have me, for one. For another, don't you dare kiss me again." Frank turned around to face Alice, shocked. However, it was all a moment too late. Alice whipped out her wand, and shouted, "Yakuso!"

Frank felt himself expand on all sides as hair sprouted over his rapidly changing body. The next thing Frank knew, the stool he sat at near the bar cracked under his enormous rate. Alice shot him a look of pure venom, and left, crying. She had transfigured him into a yak. Indeed it was worse.

Whilst everyone else chuckled at the situation at hand, a figure came out of the shadows to face Frank.

"Well, now. I'm guessing you've had a rough day, sonny." Frank gave the stranger a look of loathing and stood up to leave the bar. Once out of the bar, the mysterious stranger transfigured him back into a man.

"Thank you, Sir," said Frank. "I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Amos Diggory, Sir. At your service."

"Ah, well. Thank you very much Mr. Diggory. I suppose I'd best head home to drink a bit more and thus drown my sorrow and my woe."

"You've drunk enough. At any rate, what does a fine young man such as yourself have to mope about?" Frank launched the tale of his horrid day, from the first fateful kiss to the transformation into a yak.

"Ah, that is a hard bit of luck, but don't fret. I have a business proposition for you."

"Aye, and what's that? All I'm fit for is a janitor, or a –"

"Do stop whining, my fine fellow. I know of a position that pays reasonably well, and is filled with action, adventure, and you can set your own hours. Furthermore, it could be well publicized, meaning that you could gain your fair share of honor, glory, and perhaps that which you desire most: the heart of your fair lady, Alice Prewitt."

"And what is this job, exactly?"

"Working as the partner of an unconventional lawman named Mundungus Fletcher. Are you game for it?"

"Sure, why not." Amos Diggory grinned.

"Then let's have a brief chat with Mr. Fletcher about the terms of your employment, shall we?"

"Aye, let's go."


	3. The Accord

**Author's Note: **All of the characters in this parody are the product of the Most Noble J.K. Rowling. Only the plot belongs to me. Read, review, and enjoy. Se gap lai nhe.

**Chapter III**

**The Accord**

Amos Diggory and his newly found friend Frank Longbottom arrived late that night at the Hog's Head Inn. When they entered the grimy Inn, they went up to room 7 and knocked on the door.

"Password," said a cheery voice on the other side of the door. Frank was shocked at its almost youthful sound. He had heard of Mundungus Fletcher, the hard-bitten bounty hunter thru his search thru old copies of the Daily Prophet. The voice he had just heard sounded nothing like what he had expected.

"Scurvy Cur," Amos replied. The door opened to reveal a tall, sandy-haired youth.

"Hello there, sonny. Come in, come in." Frank walked in the room. It was a dark and dingy sort of chamber. There was a blanket roll on the floor that obviously served as a bed and a small table. Next to the table were numerous boxes of rum—Mundungus Fletcher's preferred drink. Also around were several bandoliers filled with shotgun shells, a sawed-off shotgun, a brace of pistols, a saber, some bowie knives, and other assorted goodies and tricks of the trade. Seated around the table were two men. One of them was a tall man with a pleasant face. The other was shaded in darkness, a cloud of thick green smoke coming from his pipe.

"May I introduce you to your fellow associates, Mr. Longbottom?" inquired Amos Diggory. "Mr. Bartimius Crouch, Jr." He indicated the sandy haired man who had met them at the door. "Mr. Regulus Black." He indicated the good-natured fellow at the table. "And last, but most certainly not least, Mr. Mundungus Fletcher." Amos pointed at the shady man. "Everyone, this is Mr. Frank Longbottom."

When they had all exchanged formalities, Mr. Diggory began talking once more.

"I have assembled you all here for a purpose. You all will be working for the Ministry of Magic as independent lawmen, or more accurately bounty hunters. The Ministry has decided to pay 50000 galleons for the capture of Lord Voldemort and 25000 for the capture of his faithful minions, those Corpse Chompers—"

"Death Eaters," Regulus and Barty said in unison.

"Whatever," replied Amos. "Regulus and Bartimius will work as spies and Ministry agents inside of the enemy's camp and shall report to Mr. Fletcher, who will be the de-facto head of this operation. If anything of importance comes up, you two will use these coins, which have been enchanted using a protean charm to inform either Mr. Fletcher, Mr. Longbottom, or myself immediately. Mr. Longbottom, you will be Mr. Fletcher's adjutant. Is this acceptable to all?"

The Fearless Four nodded in assent. "Very good, Sirs. Well, I will be turning in for the night. Good evening, gentlemen." With a cheery wave, Amos departed for home to visit his wife who was nursing their young son, Cedric. The remaining Bounty Hunters sat in silence for a brief while until…

"Dang, I need a drink!" roared Dung. "You there—Barty—pass me a rum. 'Ere we go. 'At's a good lad. Lads, let's drink to glory and gold."

"And to success," said Bartimius Crouch, Jr.

"And to honor," piped in Regulus Black.

"And to Alice Prewitt," said Frank in a morose whisper that nobody heard but himself. However, despite his growing depression over the potential loss of Alice, hope seemed to grow in his chest. If they were to be as successful as Amos thought, and if Dung and his associates were as good as he thought, perhaps he, Frank, could regain Alice's love, and her brothers' respect. It was with that half-heartedly cheerful thought that Frank downed his rum in a single gulp and drifted to sleep.


	4. The 1st Escape

**Author's Note:** The characters found in the story below are the property of J.K. Rowling. The plot, however, is mine. Read, Review, and Enjoy. Se gap lai nhe.

**Chapter IV**

**The 1st Escape**

And so it was that Frank Longbottom's career as a mercenary began. Mundungus Fletcher, the group's leader and advisor in all things unsavory, did not need to bother training Frank in much of anything, for there was no better teacher on this Earth than Professor Moody of the Auror Academy. While Frank may have lost his potential work as an auror that was not due to his lack of talent so much as it was due to the interference of the Prewitts. Quite to the contrary, "Mad-Eye" believed Frank to be the most talented candidate to apply for the position in a very long time.

Despite Frank's aptitude in the realm of magical law enforcement, he still needed to work with non-magical weapons. Frank was a quick learner, though, and within the span of one week, he had become a master in the art of shooting, poisoning, sword fighting, etc.

It was on a dark Tuesday night that the Bounty Hunters got their first taste of action as a team. Like most evenings, Dung and Frank sat in their three room flat playing poker and, in the case of Mundungus, drinking rum by the barrel. They had just managed to get thru the first round, in which Frank lost spectacularly, when Frank felt something burn in his pants pocket.

"Ouch!" He roared.

"Frank, m'boy. It's the coins. It's the coins!"

"What coins? Dag nab it, you already have 250 galleons you took from me! What more do you want?"

"Not those coins you bloody oaf. Barty and Regulus have news!"

"Oh, I knew that." Frank replied sheepishly. Frank pulled out his coin. This morning it was just a regular gold coin with naught special about it. Now, however, it bore the legend: "Death Eaters attacking McKinnons. Please respond."

"To arms, m'boy."

Frank and Mundungus went to the third room in the flat, which they nicknamed "the armoury." While there, Dung picked up his wand and fastened a brace of pistols round his waste. In his boot, he hid a bowie knife. He wore an old traveling cloak about him. Frank wore a cavalier style outfit, with a plumed hat, gauntlets, and a red cape behind him. He carried his wand and a sawed-off shotgun. He wore a sword around his waist.

"To the McKinnon homestead."

At the McKinnon homestead, the situation was bleak. Michael McKinnon and his wife Michaela were both lying dead on the ground. As Timothy Travers surveyed the situation, he smiled a wide and horrible grin. Michael had put up quite a fight that had to be admitted. Even after both he had been disarmed, he kept on fighting with an axe he had stored in his shed. However, his tools had betrayed him. Travers smirked as he thought of Michael's last moments when he was kicked in the groin and then hacked to death with his own axe. Then Travers turned on Michael's bedridden wife and hacked her to pieces as well. The remaining Death Eaters were currently just looting and pillaging the home. They were on the verge of leaving for their hidden base when Dung arrived with his faithful associate Frank Longbottom.

"No ye don't Mister!" Roared Dung.

"Stop right there, you scurvy cur," snarled Frank.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A drunken has-been and an failure. I am shivering in my shoes," sneered Travers.

"I would be if I were you," said Frank.

"Frank, m'lad. I am going after his five friends. You handle Travers."

"Right-o." With that brief exchange, the two charged. As Mundungus Fletcher cut down the five supporting death Eater fiends, Frank cut to the heart of the problem.

The duel that followed was long and brutal as the two fired spells at each other in an attempt to undo their opponent.

Finally, Travers shouted, "Expelliarmus!" with the result that Frank's wand flew out of his hand. Travers laughed aloud.

"Well, well, well. We are in trouble now, aren't we and now you are unarmed."

"I am not as doomed as you think, Travers," said Frank with a laugh that bewildered Travers and sent a shiver down his spine. Frank pulled out his sawed-off shotgun and fired it at Travers outstretched wand, snapping it in two. He then fired again, hitting Travers in the gut. Travers looked down at his failing body in shock. Not a minute beforehand, he had disarmed his opponent and prepared to kill him just as he dispatched the McKinnons. Now he himself was in mortal peril, with his lifeblood oozing out of his body, making him weak. With this most unpleasant of thoughts, Travers collapsed into unconsciousness.

"Well done, Frank," said Dung, who surveyed Travers and his five colleagues with loathing. "Let's bind 'em and take them to Amos Diggory. He'll deal with them and get us our reward."

The pair arrived at Ministry headquarters with their prisoners and received 60,000 galleons, which when divided between Frank, Dung, Regulus Black, and Bartimius Crouch, Jr., came up to 15,000 galleons a head.

"Well, my friends. You did very well. Very well indeed. I just regret that you could not save the McKinnons. They were powerful wizards. They must have fought like mad," said Amos Diggory, somewhat glumly. "However, that is six fewer Corpse Chompers to do the will of the Dark Lord."

"Beggin' your pardon, Mister Diggory, but we must be goin' to dole out our reward," Dung stated.

"What do you plan on doing with it?" inquired Mr. Diggory.

"Barty's 15,000 will probably go towards some Zonkos product. Regulus Black will most likely use his to buy his brother Sirius school supplies. His family won't help Sirius out, because he's too friendly with muggle borns. Frank'll use it either to get his girl, Alice, or to buy some more clothing from a circus." Sneered Dung.

"What about you?"

"Me? I need a drink. Blimey, I need a drink."

At that statement, everyone laughed and prepared to go their separate ways. Amos opened the door to his office and found Gideon, Fabian, and Alice Prewitt standing outside it.

"Now what are you all doing here, my fine lads and lasses?" inquired Amos.

"We heard a rumour that Michael and Michaela were…were…"

"Aye, and so they are. Brutally killed by Tim Travers & Co." At these words, Alice burst into very noisy tears. She had been close friends with Michaela and her husband since she was a girl.

"If you'll excuse us, we'll just be heading along," said Frank quietly. As he and Mundungus left to area, Gideon snarled.

"What was that fool doing here anyway? Why is a filthy, slimy creature like him allowed to live when someone decent and pure like them had to die?"

"Don't be rash in your grief," reprimanded Mr. Diggory. "Those two went directly to the home of the McKinnons and attempted to save them. It is due to them that the perpetrators are no longer at large."

"They attempted to save her?" Alice said, shocked.

"Yes. Now if you have naught else to do, I suggest you should leave now." Amos Diggory shuffled them out of his office in an irritated manner that suggested he was furious at their comments concerning his friends.

"Oh, my God. Excuse me for a moment, boys." Alice ran off leaving a bewildered Gideon and Fabian behind.

"What was that all about?" Gideon asked. Fabian shrugged and kept on going.

A short while later found Frank walking towards the Fountain of the Magical Brethren. HE always liked the fountain, though he was never sure as to why. He was just about to leave for the surface when…

"Frank! Wait!"

"Alice?"

"I am really, really sorry for the way I've acted towards you. Amos told us that you risked your life for the McKinnons. I am grateful for it." She bent forward and kissed Frank. Frank was stunned.

"So, are you going to turn me into a yak?"

"No."

"Will you go out with me?"

"You know, I think I will."

And they kissed again.


	5. The Wedding

**Author's Note: **The following contains elements from the works of Mario Puzo and most especially J.K. Rowling. Please, please Read, Review and Enjoy. Se gap lai nhe.

**Chapter V**

**The Wedding**

Life took on a distinctively rosy appearance in the days and weeks after Frank's 1st successful bounty. Since then, Frank and his compatriots had been involved in many other skirmishes with the agents of the Dark Lord of Voldemortshire. However, despite the ongoing war, no one had seen the treacherous Thomas Riddle II since the advent of the War. A sense of tranquility descended over the wizarding world as the Dark Lord was nowhere to be seen. And so it was that Frank was to be found eating a romantic meal with Alice Prewitt one evening six months after his "Baptism by fire" into the shadowy realm of mercenaries.

"By golly Alice, this blood pudding is excellent!" Exclaimed Frank as he drained his goblet of rum. Evidently all of the time he spent with Dung was starting to wear off on him.

"Aye, it is good. Thank you kindly, Mr. Longbottom." The happy couple then proceeded to go thru several more courses at dinner. By the end of it, Frank had had a lot to drink. Too much, if truth be told. He leaned over the table and kissed Alice passionately, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Who could be calling at this time of night?" Alice inquired as she went to open the door.

Meanwhile… 

"Oh no, this is bad," thought Regulus Black. He had just come from playing a game of poker in the back room of the Riddle House. While there, he played against Mulciber and Amicus Carrow, both of whom were completely intoxicated. After the game ended in a grand victory—50,000 galleons—for Regulus who was smart enough to remain sober—Carrow and Mulciber both began making toasts over more alcohol. 1st went to Regulus, "the greatest rumm—hic—y player in the world"; next went to rummy, "a bloody brilliant game"; and finally to the Dark Lord's attempt to kill Frank Longbottom. Regulus' blood ran cold at those words. He ran from the room and began fiddling with his coin, hoping and praying that it would work in time.

Meanwhile… 

"Oh, my 'ed is 'urting like mad," moaned Mundungus Fletcher as he bent over a bucket near his cot.

"Well, my friend, you shouldn't have drunk so much earlier," said Barty Crouch, unphased by the sound of a gush of vomit hitting the bucket. "What you need is a change of scenery. Perhaps you should go to Scotland and drink some—"

"Firewhiskey."

"Not what I was thinking. No, Scotland has too many distilleries. You'd never make it. You need some coffee. Aargh." Barty felt a searing pain in his left pant's pocket. It felt as if something was burning into his flesh. "The medallion!" Dung looked up over the foul smelling bucket, a look of horror appeared on his already green tinged features. It made him look sicker than he actually was.

"What is it, m'boy? What's happened?"

"The Dark Lord is going to kill Frank. We have no time to lose." Barty cast a sobering charm on Dung, who looked suddenly disgruntled.

"For Pete's sake, why didn't ye do that earlier, ye great coot!" With that last cheerful remark, they apparated to Frank's flat.

At Frank's Flat… 

Alice opened the door to the flat and screamed. Standing in the doorway was a tall, gaunt man with waxy, white skin. His slit-like nostrils dilated as is he savoured the scent of her fear.

"Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" The Earl of Voldemortshire inquired sneeringly. The sight of the Dark Lord seemed to sober up Frank better than a whole pot of hot, black coffee.

"Get out of my house, you creepy freak!" With that he rushed to the door and slammed the door shut in Voldemort's face.

"How rude. Now really, I want to make you an offer you can't refuse. Join me, and together we can rule over the world. Just the two of us. Pureblood gentlemen purging the rest and restoring peace and order to the world."

"I refuse. Anyway, you're not a pureblood. You're just some jumped up half-blooded trollop! Now leave or else."

"Why is it that I, a lowly villain, have better manners than you do? Hmm. Very well. Then I'll have to kill you. I didn't want to do it, but you left me no choice." Voldemort blasted the door off its hinges. The force of the explosion knocked Frank over. Alice ran into the next room to get her wand, which she had left in her purse. The Dark Lord followed her, licking his lips and looking disgusting as is his wont.

"Here's Tommy!" shouted the psychopathic Earl. Suddenly, a loud bang resonated across the room and the Dark Lord faltered. Blood spurted from the region around his gut. He turned around to see Frank Longbottom holding a now smoking sawed-off shotgun. Frank fired again, hitting Voldemort in his wand arm. The Dark Lord could not fight off the onslaught quickly or efficiently enough.

"This isn't over, Frank Longbottom. You may have won this battle but know you this: I eat bounty hunters with my breakfast. I crush mercenaries with my smallest fingers. I stomp gunslingers off this Earth. This time, you have won. Next time, I will bury you!" With one bout of hatred, he apparated to the Riddle House where he would regroup.

"Oh, Frank," Alice cried out. " I was so worried he would kill you."

"No, he won't kill me. It'll take more than some hair-brained halfblooded, murderously perverse psychopath to kill me. He wouldn't have killed you either."

"But how can you know?" whimpered Alice, who was still in shock.

"Because I love you, and I will never let anything happen to you."  
"I love you too, Frank. Let's get married now, before anything else happens."

"A bit forward aren't you. A good idea none the less, though." The happy couple began to kiss again, when a knock came from outside the door again.

"You know, we'll never finish at this rate," Frank said. Alice chuckled nervously.

"Who is it?"

"Frank, m'boy. You're in terrible danger." Mundungus Fletcher's raspy voice came though the door.

"Dung, is that you?"

"No, it's the tooth fairy. 'oo'ed you thing it was?"

"Never mind. Go fetch the Fat Friar immediately.

A short while later, Dung returned with the Fat Friar, Barty Crouch Jr, Regulus Black, and Amos Diggory in tow.

"What do you need, my good yeoman?" inquired the Friar.

"We wish to be married, immediately," Frank said.

"Why?"

"We have just been thru quite an ordeal with our friend Riddle, and that has shown us how very much we mean to each other. Now will you please, my good Friar, or will I have to go elsewhere?"

"Fine, I shall. Dearly beloved…"

Later on… 

After a short ceremony held in front of only Frank's associates, the Spectral Friar, and God himself, Alice was now Mrs. Frank Longbottom. Those in attendance toasted their happiness and good health, though Dung was not allowed anywhere near the rum, just in case. Then, Mr. Diggory pulled out a sack of galleons for them to use for a honeymoon in Bucharest. After what seemed like forever, the makeshift reception ended and Frank and Alice were alone on their first night of marriage.

"Now where were we," said Frank, but before he could finish, Alice began to kiss him in what would be the first night of a happy marriage.


	6. The Second Encounter

**Author's Note: **The following contains elements from the work of the Honourable J.K. Rowling. Please, please Read, Review and Enjoy. Se gap lai nhe.

**Chapter VI**

**The Second Encounter**

Frank and Alice had a very happy honeymoon in Romania. Whilst there, they were able to search for the supposed "Unholy Tomb," the lost burial site of Vlad Dracula. The site has remained hidden, and according to legend is under the guard of Vlad's undead officers, who were cursed for all eternity to guard the tomb of he whom they pledged eternal loyalty, yet betrayed on that fateful December day in 1476 to the Turks. Whether or not this legend is true is irrelevant, Frank reflected. So far, neither of them had had any luck in finding the elusive tomb. And so it was with a heavy heart that the happy pair returned to England.

After their arrival home, Frank went back to work as a successful bounty hunter, or "venture capitalist" as he started to call them. Alice, in the meantime, remained at their new home in an attempt to make it habitable. Their friends and associates believed this to be an unwinnable battle, as they selected the Shrieking Shack as their abode.

One night, approximately three months following their return from Romania, the newly weds were to be found eating dinner.

"You wouldn't mind if I opened some champagne for our five month anniversary, would you?" Alice inquired. Frank grumbled. He had never been accustomed to drinking the bubbling, fizzy drink. Rum was his preferred nightcap, but…

"Yeah, why not." Alice went first to open a window by the table—it was, after all a dreadfully hot night. She then went to retrieve a bottle of champagne.

Alice and Frank were perhaps too happy and complacent for their own good. It is undoubtedly a good thing to be happy, and married, and enjoying your wife's company over a bottle of champagne. However, caution must be observed at times like these. No caution was observed, though. Unknown to all, a newly patched up Tom Riddle, Jr., hereditary Lord of Voldemortshire, was standing outside of the window sneering at them.

"Frank, this bloody cork is in too tight. I can't get it undone," Alice whined softly.

"Coming dear. I declare, I'm coming." Voldemort grinned malevolently. The couple had lowered their guard even further than before. Life is good, thought the Dark Lord as he put his hands on the windowsill to lift himself up and get a better view.

In the meantime, Frank shook up the champagne. He rather disliked the drink and by shaking it, perhaps most of it would fly out of the bottle so that he could drink his beloved rum. He then pulled out his sword and plucked the cork out, sending it flying right into Voldemort's nose.

"Ouch!" cried the despondent Dark Lord. Much to his dismay, a steady stream of the bubbling, frothing drink sprayed into his eyes, making them sting horribly.

"Owwww! Darn! I hate you, Frank! May you and yours suffer a most horrific death! May darkness forever fall upon your House and all who dwell within its walls!" With that, Voldie ran forth into the Darkness having once again picked a fight with the wrong man.

"Well, that was unusual to be sure," Frank said smiling. "I think this calls for a real man's drink."

"If you say so, my beloved husband," Alice replied. They pair downed their drinks and kissed before going to bed.


	7. The Fall of the House of Prewitt

**Author's Note**: The following contains elements from the work of the Honourable J.K. Rowling. Please, please Read, **Review** and Enjoy. Se gap lai nhe.

**Chapter VII:**

**The Fall of the House of Prewitt**

It was a cold, brisk December day across the countryside near Hogsmeade. Snow lay thick on the ground. Indeed, the weather was so picturesque that even the seemingly run-down Shrieking Shack looked beautiful. However, the Shack was not quite so dilapidated as it appeared. In the months following their marriage, Alice had managed to repair much of the interior, plugging the leaks, painting the walls, etc, etc. She had even managed a clever enlarging charm that enabled the Shrieking Shack to expand while remaining the same size on the outside. It was no longer a Shack, but had achieved the status of a cozy and loving home.

Christmas was fast approaching in the Longbottom Residence, and merriment was in the air. The Dark Lord, while still at large, was no longer wreaking havoc on the same scale as before. Many of his top lieutenants had been captured, or killed by Frank and his associates. Even though Bartimius Crouch, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had claimed this to be the work of his top-notch Aurors, the majority of the magical community knew that Frank and Mundungus were responsible for the state of relative peace. To help further boost spirits at the Longbottom residence, Barty Crouch Jr., and Regulus Black were still alive and well in their covert roles.

Despite all of the good that was going on in her life, Alice had never been more distraught. The simple fact of the matter was that Alice had not heard from her brothers, Gideon and Fabian since she began seeing Frank. She knew perfectly well that the pair mistrusted and despised Frank for his work as a Bounty Hunter. They saw him as a profiteer and vigilante, and they hated him for it.

Frank arrived home late on Christmas Eve night, after a grueling day searching for Fenrir Greyback, the leader of the "Free Werewolves," who had recently led a riot near Dufftown. When he stepped into the kitchen, he found his wife in tears.

"Alice, m'dear, what's wrong?"

"Oh, I just can't bear the thought of not speaking with my brothers over the holidays. Since I was very young, we were always very close. So close, I never thought anything could come between us. But now…now that they're not talking to me…" Alice let out a loan moan of despair that seemed to resonate from her very soul.

"You miss them, don't you?"

"I do, very much."

"Well, then. You know what we'll do? We'll pay them a visit tonight. We'll go down their chimney like Father Christmas himself."

"That…that would be swell," Alice said happily. "It just wouldn't be Christmas without them."

"I know." With that, the pair prepared to use Floo Powder to surprise the In-laws.

Indeed, it would be an unpleasant surprise, but not one without some merit.

At the Prewitt household, Gideon and Fabian were having a cheery start of the holiday festivities. As everything had been peaceful, recently, however, the pair had become careless and let their guard down. Little did they know that the Dark Lord had secretly sent his commando extraordinaire, Antonin Dolohov to the household with a single purpose—the Fall of the House of Prewitt.

As Gideon and Fabian toasted the holiday with eggnog, Dolohov blasted the front door off its hinges with the force of a small bomb. The battle that followed was horrific and bloody as the pair fought against Dolohov and Company. Even though they were outnumbered 5:1, the Prewitts managed to cut their attackers down, until Dolohov and two others were all that remained. Fabian fell first, the victim to a killing curse. Gideon managed to slay his brother's killer before he was hit. However, Dolohov did not fire a killing curse at Gideon Prewitt. Indeed, it would have been kinder had he done so. Instead, he used the most dastardly weapon in his arsenal—the Entrail expelling curse. Gideon suddenly was hit with unspeakable pain as a horrible gash formed across his abdomen and his entrails were viciously pulled out. As he lay dying, Antonin Dolohov stood over him and leered.

Dolohov raised his wand again, but a spell never came. Frank Longbottom came whizzing out of the Prewitt's fireplace, and knocked him over. Alice came next, and screamed as she surveyed the ghastly scene. Things may have gone ill for the pair, had it not been for Frank's superior reflexes, as he stunned the other surviving Death Eater, and kicked Dolohov's wand, breaking it in half, and breaking his nose with it.

Dolohov was bound and gagged while Frank called for backup to come. The mortally wounded Gideon Prewitt beckoned him forward.

"Frank, I may have been wrong about you," he said in a laboured voice as Frank attempted to heal his wounds. "Perhaps, you're not the scoundrel I took you for."

"Gideon, this is no time for sentimentality. Save your energy."

"Gid, you're going to get well," moaned Alice.

"Nay, nay. I know now that my time's up. But I did not go without a fight. Frank," he whispered. "Frank, promise me—promise me you'll look after Alice…when I'm gone."

"I shall, Gideon. She's my wife." Upon hearing this last, tears filled Gideon's eyes as he grasped Frank's hand.

In a low, almost inaudible voice, Gideon whisper, "May God bless you and the House of Longbottom." And with that, his eyes closed for the last time.

Following the arrival of the authorities, Frank and Alice returned to their cottage in a shell-shocked state. Word came to Frank concerning a request for him to debrief what happened with Amos Diggory, but before he could depart, Alice said, "Frank, I don't think I can handle being alone just now."

"I understand. Here shall I remain, by your side."


	8. On Being Late

**Disclaimer: **The Honourable J.K. Rowling owns the delightful magical realm of Harry Potter. I am just using—and abusing—her creation below. Please read, review, and enjoy. Se gap lai nhe.

**Chapter VIII**

**The Consequences of Tardiness,**

**Or**

**The Potential Joys of Being Late**

The month following the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewitt were undoubtedly amongst the most difficult that Alice Longbottom ever knew. True, it had an effect on Frank and his compatriots, but not to the same extent. Whilst Alice grieved over the loss of her elder brothers, Frank sought to protect his wife from meeting their gruesome fate. However, Amos Diggory was perhaps the most vexed of all. While he was only a casual acquaintance of the pair, he feared a breakdown in the clique's intelligence division. "How was it," Amos mused, "that neither Barty nor Regulus had heard tale of the plot? Had they been corrupted, either willingly or forcibly by the imperious curse?" "No," Amos reasoned. While both of them were proud purebloods, they would never have betrayed Alice's brothers to a horrific end.

Mundungus, while saddened by Alice's loss, was not nearly as concerned.

"This 'ere conflict is a war. It's no different than cookin' your grub," Dung said seriously one day to Amos. "Ask any cook an' 'e'll tell you that ye can't make an omlet without breakin' a few eggs."

"Still," Amos mused, "I'd like to make it thru this with as few "broken eggs" as possible. As it is, if they can take down the Prewitts, both of whom were big, strong, and powerfully magical, then who is to stop the Earl of Voldemortshire from killing my wife and baby Ced?"

A little over a month after the death of her kindred, Alice was to be found weeping hysterically in the loo. Why, not even she entirely knew. One day, she felt as if she were coming to terms with the deaths of her brothers. The next, she was in hysterics. To make matters worse, she had become rather ill and achy. In her gloom, she had evidently contracted the flu or some other virus. "Why, oh why couldn't I have taken care of myself? They're dead, and dwelling on them every single day until I make myself seriously ill and keel over myself won't bring them back."

Frank was concerned, of course, but he was not at home all that much. He had stuck at home with her for comfort and support until the funeral, but he could not stay at home when the world seemed to be crumbling around them. The other Death Eaters, who had been retreating over the past few months had become emboldened by Dolohov's vile acts and had restarted their campaign of terror.

There could be no denying that the situation was grim. On the Tuesday before, Frank, Dung and the gang had tea with Benjy Fenwick, an auror from the Ministry. The next day when they dropped in for a meeting, they found a bloodstained heap of body parts on his favorite chair. On the wall above the chair, the phrase "Hey, hey! Fenrir was Here" was written in a thick, maroon paste that looked nastily like blood.

Frank woke up early one morning to find his wife's place in bed empty. Furthermore, in place of the silence that had been present earlier, a horrible squelching sound was to be heard. Getting out of bed, Frank followed the noises until he reached the loo where he found Alice bent over the toilet gagging.

"Blimey, you've been ill like this for quite some period of time. Alice, tomorrow I want you to go to St. Mungo's. I don't want to see you suffer unnecessarily, and you've suffered quite enough."

"No, really. I'm fine. Just I get oddly queasy at times. Don't know why, but—", Alice broke off suddenly as a steady stream of vomit made its way into the world.

"Alice, whether you think it's serious or not, just do this for me. Please, it would ease my mind."

"Why is it always about easing YOUR mind. Why is it never what I think is best! Don't you think I can make decisions for myself!" Alice shouted suddenly, and needlessly after she had recovered herself.

Frank looked rather hurt and made for the door, when Alice suddenly said, "Frank, I don't know what came over me, but I was wrong to shout. I'll set up an appointment tomorrow. Don't worry. You have enough to worry about without me adding to it. The healer'll just say I have influenza; I have been rundown ever since—well, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Just do that for me."

The next day was, predictably, another grueling and unpleasant one. Frank was sent to hunt for Fenrir Greyback, who slew Benjy Fenwick, and kill him if possible. Dung was sent after a Soviet wizard who the Ministry feared was scouting out for a potential invasion of Soviet Dark Warlocks, a fellow name Igor Karkaroff. While Dung had no luck in finding the elusive Soviet agent, Frank very easily came across the lair of Fenrir Greyback. Finding him wasn't an issue. Escaping a horde of angry werewolves—now that was another story altogether. Frank fired killing curses at the werewolves, and sometimes his aim was true. However, Fenrir was still free with the bulk of his empire intact.

Bad news plagued him when he returned to the Ministry for a briefing with Amos and his compatriots.

"Frank, I have some bad news," started Amos Diggory.

"Yeppers. What is it?"

"Well, do you remember the day you captured Tim Travers for the murder of the McKinnons?"

"Aye," replied Frank, now thoroughly bewildered.

"Well, Headmaster Dumbledore wants an inquiry to be raised against you. He claims you used unnecessary force to bring him in. In all fairness, I suppose he was in rough shape after you caught him. I'm going to have to suspend you, m'lad until the investigations over."

"Dag nab it," Frank swore. "I got there too late to save them, but at least I caught the filth that did it. I did what I had to do."

"Frank, calm down. I know you did what was necessary, but…"

"I'm going home. I've had a long day."

When Frank arrived home, he found Alice in the kitchen preparing dinner. When she noticed he was home, she embraced him.

"So, what did they say at St. Mungos?"

"I didn't go. I didn't need to."

"Why not?"

"Because I realized what was wrong, and I found that nothing is wrong in a matter of speaking."

"Alice you're really confusing me here. What're you talking about?"

"Frank, I'm late."


	9. The Prophecy Overheard

**Disclaimer: **The Honourable J.K. Rowling owns the delightful magical realm of Harry Potter. I am just using—and abusing—her creation below. Please read, **REVIEW**, and enjoy. Se gap lai nhe.

**Chapter IX **

**A Prophecy Overheard**

Several months had passed since Alice had told Frank that she was expecting. Over those months, Alice's pregnancy was normal and she remained healthy. Frank & Co. continued the endless search for the Dark Lord. Barty Crouch's father, who held the same name, had become Minister of Magical Law Enforcement. Under his lead, Frank and his colleagues became respectable lawmen.

It was during this time, that Albus Dumbledore was to be found walking to the Hog's Head Inn. While there, he was going to interview a candidate for the position of Divination. Under normal circumstances, he would have simply cut the position. However, today was different. Today, he was going to meet with Sibyl Trelawney, the descendent of a very celebrated Seer.

Overall, the interview was not a very good one. Dumbledore noticed that Trelawney did not seem to have a Second Sight. Rather, she had a lot of mystical arrogance and pride. Neither quality appealed to the Headmaster. With this in mind, he turned dejectedly to leave, when a horrible chocking sound reached his ears.

"Sibyl, whatever could be wrong?"

Sibyl Trelawney's eyes rolled back in their sockets as she gagged. Then she spoke in a voice devoid of human emotion, quite unlike her own.

_"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES…BORN TO THOSE WHO HAV THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE A POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT…AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIFE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…"_

Dumbledore stood rooted to the spot in glee. "So she is a Seer," thought Dumbledore. "I have use for her."

His musings were cut short suddenly by a struggle at the door. The door opened, and Albus and Sibyl saw Aberforth Dumbledore standing over a prostrate figure lying on the ground, blood streaming from a cut over his sallow forehead. Severus Snape had been listening at the keyhole.

"Take him to my office, Aberforth. I shall deal with him there." He turned back to Sibyl Trelawney.

"Sibyl, my dear. You do appear to be most highly qualified. I would be proud to have you teach at my school. Make the necessary arrangements and be there within the month. I shall see to it that your quarters are prepared."

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said in her misty, ethereal tone. "But I had foreseen my appointment before hand. It is not always a burden to be blessed with a second sight, Headmaster."

Professor Dumbledore bowed quickly and left the room. He then walked back to Hogwarts to deal with the eavesdropper.


	10. The Eavesdropper

**Disclaimer: **The Honourable J.K. Rowling owns the delightful magical realm of Harry Potter. Some elements of Puzo may exist below. I am just using—and abusing—their creations below. Please read, **REVIEW**, and enjoy. Se gap lai nhe.

**Chapter X**

**The Eavesdropper**

Headmaster Dumbledore arrived back at his office to find Severus Snape bound and bleeding on the floor. Dumbledore pulled out his wand and flicked it and his bindings, which broke as if on Dumbledore's command.

"So, Severus. Imagine my meeting you today. I hope you heard something of interest."

"You ought to know, Headmaster. It was you who sent me to listen in on the conversation."

"Indeed I did, Severus. I would imagine that you wonder why I asked you to do so. And why I would allow my brother to beat you to a pulp after discovery?"

Severus Snape did wonder why. The order had not made any sense. Indeed, Snape was regretting ever having made a deal with the Headmaster. Snape had come to Dumbledore several months ago with a problem. He had long since held a secret passion for Lily Evans. He had always fantasized about having her in his arms. However, he had never acted upon this impulse, save once. One night, Snape had been out drinking and he saw that Lily was at another area of the tavern. Snape strode over and held a nice chat with Lily, and had discovered that she was going to marry James Potter. He could still feel the fury at finding out about his beloved Lily marrying an arrogant prick like James Potter. Whether it was because of his pain, or the drink he never knew, but suddenly he passionately kissed Lily. However, this was not without a hitch, for who should see this act unfold but Regulus Black.

Snape feared that Regulus would unveil this to James, who would then proceed to kill him, so he fled. Dumbledore was the only one who could get him out of this trouble. Upon explaining this to Dumbledore, the Headmaster told him that he would get Snape out of trouble, but only if he would repay the favour one day.

Snape had repaid the favour before, by entering the Death Eaters as a spy for the Order. However, this was not enough to the Headmaster, who waved his lust for Lily in front of him as a weapon of blackmail. It was for this reason that Snape had been listening outside of keyholes tonight.

"Severus, you must tell the first half of the prophecy to the Dark Lord. It is of the utmost importance."

"But why? Why should I give this information to the Dark Lord? He could use this to justify killing more people."

"Severus, forgive me if I'm wrong, but did I not ask a favour of you?"

"Yes, but—"

"And if you don't fulfill your end of the bargain, then I could always pass on to James and his friends that you have feelings for Lily. I could always expand on it a bit, you know. Tell him that you've been having an affair with Lily."

"That's a lie! Headmaster, you can't do this!"

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, Snivellus!" Dumbledore taunted. "Who do you think James will believe? Whom do you think he'd hold responsible? You'd be a dead man for sure. Now run along and do as I say."

"Give me one night to think about it."

"Think wisely, my friend."

Snape left the Headmaster's office incensed. How dare he threaten him? How dare he threaten the Half-Blood Prince? Snape apparated to his lair at Spinner's End, where he fell asleep. His dreams were punctuated with horrible apparitions of death and darkness. He woke up the next morning to find his bed sheets sticky.

"What in tarnation is going on?" He threw off the sheets to find his mother's head under the covers. Nailed to the forehead was a note written in blood

_"Next time, it will be Evans!"_

Snape recognized the Headmaster's script, and screamed.


End file.
